


I Need Somebody

by dopeyjoe



Category: David Bowie (Musician), Iggy Pop/The Stooges
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23866441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dopeyjoe/pseuds/dopeyjoe
Summary: Fighting his heroin addiction in New York in 1971, James meets a beautiful young man with a catlike smile in the back room of the legendary Max´s Kansas City night club.
Relationships: David Bowie/Iggy Pop
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	I Need Somebody

The TV was on in the sweaty loft, lights were low. It wasn’t even late yet, just past nine, but time didn’t quite exist in that space. The bruises that lined Jim’s arteries looked darker, deeper in the low light. Mr Smith Goes To Washington was on, he had staid home to watch it instead of going out with Danny. Eyelashes fluttering in a bored fashion, filtering the black and white lights of the screen like the shutters of a camera. He felt worn, stretched even, and there was a small baggy of heroin and a spoon on the coffee table by his feet. And just as his thoughts began to drift away from the program and back into the soothing thought of taking a new hit, the phone rang. The sound pierced trough the sleepy loft like the ear raping screech of a siren. 

He was barely clothed, barely awake, hand lazily falling onto the small table by the couch to grab the phone’s reciever to his clammy grasp before it could distract him from the movie. Or more so, before the heroin on the table could hijack his thoughts again.

”Mhm?” 

It had to be Scott or Danny, he thought, nesting back down to his corner on the couch. He would hate it if it was Danny though, as this was his place, and they had had a stict no drugs policy. It was why Jim was there in the first place, to get clean. The fresh mark on his arm suggested a bitter failure.

”Jim? There’s a guy down here who wants to talk to you.” 

Yeah, it was Danny, down at Max’s Kansas City down in the south side of Park Avenue. The center piece of the underground art scene of New York. Jim scratched his nose and groaned;

”I’m not coming, I already told you.” 

”No, it’s this guy you remember... David Bowie. The guy who talked about The Stooges on Melody Maker. You really gotta come down here.” He sounded excited, almost. Electrified. Something about the way he referred to the young musician reeked of a hope for the future. Jim sat quietly for a moment, watching the movie play on in front of him. He knew he needed to get some fresh air, was it in the form of walking a few blocks to the bar or not. And anyway, The Stooges were going nowhere in the music scene. He knew they couldn´t support themselves with college gigs forever, especially now that they had officially hit rock bottom.

”All right. I’ll be there in thirty.” He agreed with a groan.

”Good. And for god’s sake, please put a shirt on!” 

High off his ass, after finding himself some pants to wear, the scrawny junkie of a man stumbled his way out of the apartment down to the streets. He did wear a shirt too, not by Danny’s request though. It was cold outside, and this was New York fucking City. His movements seemed almost reanimated, lifeless, lazy. For a man of twenty-four, his life force had been drained to resemble one of seventy. It was like some god-like entiry struck it’s force down upon him each time his feet hit the stage floor, but the second he’d step back down it all left him drained. For those couple of hours a week, he was a paranormal entity, a demigod, a superhuman. Able to possess those crowds of dirty scumbag misfits who looked at him like a prophet. He held a power. Raw power. And then he got home, and suddenly all there was left of that extasy came from a spoon and a syringe. 

The streets stretched dirty under his feet and Jim felt like the star of a goddamn Andy Warhol film. It wasn’t a long walk, but it felt like one. This stranger in the backroom of Max’s was surely an interesting character, and surely this would be a very worthwhile night. 

\- 

”Jim, about fucking time!” 

Danny´s voice rang out as the younger man dragged himself in trough the door. Honestly, it did look like Jim didn´t want to be there. It was like he´d rather be anywhere else, actually. But he did try his best to hide it.

There were a lot of people there, but of course most notable of them all was David. He carried himself like royalty, long mouse brown hair falling onto his shoulders on smooth waves. His white silk blouse was unbuttoned from the top, revealing his sharp collarbones. There was something birdlike about him, and something catlike. Like he was both the pray and the beast, a graceful mix of only the best qualities of each in a beautifully neat package. It was hard to believe the two of them were the same age. David seemed ageless in a sense to begin with, his face glowed with a youthful, near childish innocence, yet the words he spoke, the words he wrote, they felt like the future. He had a sense of class James had never seen on anyone his own age before.

”Tony DeFries.” The first man to shake his hand, who happened to be David’s manager, had a mighty fine afro for a white guy. 

”Mr. Osterberg, or uh, should I call you James?” David began with a rumbling, soothing voice as he stood up from the couch in the quite cramped backroom. His thin legs stretching like tall branches of a tree, but it was an illusion to an extend. David wasn´t actually that tall, but he was very skinny. Compared to Jim though, he was notably taller. Danny was softly nudging for some of the less crucial members of the human lot to make room and leave the tight space. It was getting hard to breathe- it could have just been the heroin though. 

”James is fine.” He smiled, something about his expression was weak. He could feel all the blood flush from his face, growing pale.

Sometimes his head would just thud oddly, probably softened by the drugs, and he would smell things. Hear things. Usually it was copper, he’d taste it and smell it for just an overwhelming moment, and this small bright white box of light appeared to the center of his retinas that he couldn’t quite focus on, but it was certainly there, and all noise would come to a halt. When it happened it would only last for a few seconds, and apart from the headache he didn’t even mind. But the second David’s tall and thin fingers grasped his own, it was like all noise got sucked into a black hole. His ears rang for a moment, and the overwhelming taste of copper filled his mouth, and the white box lit up the taller man’s mismatched eyes like a godly beacon.  
This was a rush he had never experienced before. Maybe he had taken a couple of millilitres too much and this was just a little late reaction? He couldn’t hear a word, just muffled sounds behind his thudding heart. Oh, his heart, it trashed against his ribcage like a bird trying to break free. Then the box of light went out, and with a woosh the sounds were back. Jim’s fingers grasped David’s still, shaking like he was having a seizure, and it was getting uncomfortable, but he felt that if he was to let go his body would collapse onto the floor. 

”Are you all right?” David’s voice was very kind. Disturbingly so. 

With a swallow he gacked out a flustered ”Yeah.” 

”Hey Dan, could you get me like a water or something?” Jim stuttered, finally letting go of David’s tall fingers and hastily leaning on the wall of the backroom for support. For a moment the room was spinning, but then it halted, and finally the last thing that was unstable was his heartbeat. 

”How much did you take tonight? You were supposed to be going clean goddamn it-” Danny hissed, hushed voice scolding as he dug out a room temperature water bottle from god knows where and screwed off the cap. 

”Shut up.” Jim hissed, grabbing the bottle and downing half of it hungrily, all the while under the gaze of a bunch of confused and worried onlookers. 

”Are you sure you’re all right?” David asked again, tilting his head softly. 

”Just arrythmia… or something.” He smiled forcefully after wiping his wet lips to the sleeve of his jacket and handing the bottle back to Danny. It definitely wasn’t arrythmia, that was for sure, but he couldn’t just go ahead and tell this new possible producer about his heavy heroin habit on their first meeting. The very same heroin habit he was supposed to be healing from away from Detroit. 

”Anyway- back to the bisness.” Danny glared, nodding towards the couches for the little company that remained, and Tony settled on the leftmost with David. 

”Are you sure you’re handling this?” He kept glancing at Jim’s arm, as if trying to see the needle marks trough the fabric. His gaze was burning, disappointed, worried even. But not angry.

”I already told you, I’m fine, I didn’t even take much just stop fucking fussing.” 

The situation was childish, and as odd as it was for an adult man, Jim felt like Danny was embarassing him. His step swayed a bit as he made his way to sit across from David on an armchair, so close their knees almost brushed. 

And with a voice like thunder, the young and beautiful man spoke; ”I have a lot of ideas for you, James.” 

The night stretched on, eventually it was just Jim, David, Danny and Tony in the backroom as the clock neared 2 in the morning, drinking, discussing ideas, visions of working together in the future. 

”I should get going.” Danny sighed eventually, tired eyes glancing at his wrist watch. ”We could continue this in the daylight.” 

”Daylight is where artistic minds sleep, Field.” David’s voice was a low purr, it was scarily attractive. His right foot was over the left, tall fingers resting on his oddly sharp knees.

”I’m not an artist, I’m a publicist.” He got up from the couch and rubbed his temple. For a man on his twenties, he sure sounded like a middle aged bisnessman.

”You coming, Jim?” 

James snapped out of his train of inappropriate thougts as his name was called, eyes shooting up from David’s hands to his old friend. He had thought of many things he´d let those hands do to him, and the arousal he was trying to swallow was slipping trough. If he was to stand up now, things would certainly get very awkward.

”No, I think I’ll stay.” 

”Just do me a favour and be quiet when you come back to the loft, I need to wake up in… four hours. Fuck.” Danny groaned, grabbed his jacket from the armrest and proceeded to shake Tony’s and David’s hands and thank them for their time. 

Another good fifteen minutes after that, the conversation had picked up again, and it was as if now even David had began to show signs of, well, not just purely musical and lyrical interest in Jim. Now he was beginning to dig trough the trashy poetry and wailing guitars, into the core. Into who the Stooges actually were. Or more so, into who James actually was. Because he was not Iggy.  
He was Iggy for one and a half hour a night, a few nights a week, with street junk in his veins. 

”I want to know what goes on inside of your head.” David purred after a moment, and Jim bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself grounded in reality. His mind had been racing all night, into fantasies of what he´d like to do with David after the meeting was over. He knew the boy was a faggot, it was painfully obivous. God- he had even worn a dress in The Man Who Sold The World´s cover photo. And Jim felt jealous of that, in a sense. Because he knew he was too deep in the closet to ever even peep out. He had been married once already, way too young now that he thought about it, just to prove his parents a point. He did love his parents, so so much, they had always supported him even after all the shit he had pulled. It wasn´t even a fear of being disowned that kept him tightly ´straight´. It must have been the fear of the world.

He wanted to say something along the lines of ”well I want to see what goes on inside of your pants”, but by some god’s grace he held his tongue. Not in front of Tony, he told himself. Not yet. And honestly, he didn´t think he would have been able to make the first move even if they were alone together. He was naturally kind of submissive, kind of scared of rejection. And Bowie? He seemed the kind of guy who´d like to own you. Well, that was what he built his stage persona to seem like. A god, an alien, an entity larger than life who could just grasp onto your heart and crush it, step on you just to break your spine. But David? The man behind the alien, the boy behind the god? He was quiet. Not exactly shy, but he did like to keep his thoughts to himself. And in the end, if they had had more time to get to know each other as people instead of as the masks they wore on stage, it would have been easier for Jim to get his shit together.

”Not much.” He ended up saying, and to a degree that was truthful. It was either slow up there, or overwhelmingly crowded. The slowness was usually medical, he needed to numb his senses too often to avoid an overload. 

”Hm.” The taller man eventually huffed, eyes scanning his companion as if looking for something. Jim´s overgrown hair fell over his eyes, but his gaze was piercing none the less. He had very big, beautiful eyes, David thought. Very nice lips.

”I like the way you perform.” He added, and it was like he was undressing Jim with his eyes right there on the sweaty leather couch. In front of his manager. 

”There’s something very unique about it. I’ve never seen anything like it. And your writing, it’s nihilism. Nihilistic rock. I love that.” 

”Yeah, well, people tend to do crazy shit when they’re high off their minds.” 

For a moment there, the kindness of David was slowly slipping over the borderline to the side of flirtatious. 

"You know, you sit like a man but you smile like a reptile."

Their eye contact felt charged and drawn out there, eventually interrupted by a fairly formal cough.

”Right then, I don’t think I have anything to add, might as well get some sleep.” Tony probably picked up on what was happening- and thank god for that. ”Nice meeting you, Mr Pop.” He nodded, shook Jim’s hand once more, and much like Danny, made his way out of the backroom rather hastily. 

"Well then." David spoke as the door of the room slid close after the man, letting in a louder sound of the music playing in the bar for a passing moment before it being muffled again. They were alone now, sitting across from each other in that quite small room, and suddenly Jim couldn´t look into David´s eyes any longer.

The quiet didn´t last longer than half a minute, as David was done measuring the shorter man with his gaze. He was good at reading people, good at detecting what they were craving. And though he was criminally polite, he didn´t hide behind excuses or prolonged lustful gazes. He had come to terms with the idea of rejection, he had experienced it before in his life, though now he was near certain he wouldn´t have to. He had noticed the way Jim slumped over himself, big hands on his lap conveniently hiding the uncomfortable erection he had been battling for a long moment.

In the utter loss of small talk, David decided it was better to just get to the point, as even though Jim was fiercely independent and capable, even aggressive in certain situations, he would never actually ask for it. So with very casual, very attractive voice he asked; "Have you ever thought of men?" 

Jim felt his heart grow hasty again, his ears began to burn as he searched for any suitable words to speak.

"In what sense?" He ended up blurting out, though he damn well knew the answer.

"Sexual." 

There was another silence, and it wasn´t exactly awkward, but Jim did go trough a huge existential crisis in his head briefly before getting back on track. David was calm, unaffected, godlike, beautiful.

"Yes." Jim answeret eventually, quiet. His voice was very deep, and his face was very pretty, and his eyes were scared. Those things didn´t go well together.

The couches were positioned in a way that their knees intertwined, and David set his very tall fingers on top of Jim´s scratched and worn jeans.  
"Is this okay?" David asked, polite again, though his presence was very dominant on that moment, and though Jim was physically much stockier and stronger with his buff arms and abs, he felt insignificant and small. Because David was a god. He could have anybody. He was married to a fucking model, god damn it. How could a heroin addicted 5´7" punk from Detroit ever satisfy him?

"Yes." He whimpered, not inteding to sound as flustered as he did.

"Good." 

And David began moving his fingers upwards, not in any sense rough, but very gentle. He had a womanly touch, and that proved to drive Jim even further off the tracks. He felt himself grow harder the further up David brushed. And eventually he reached the upper side of the thigh, where Jim had crossed his hands to shield himself from David´s eyes.

"Show me." It wasn´t a request, but a command, and swallowing nervously Jim moved his hands off the way to rest on the couch by his thighs. David studied the very large bulge that threatened to rip trough the tight jeans, and then returned to study Jim´s eyes. They were gleaming with nervousness.

"Can I?" He asked, very softly and kindly, and honestly Jim was sick of the politeness of it all. He would have liked to get on with it before he´d explode inside of his pants.

"Yeah."

And David´s fingers brushed over, making Jim´s mouth open to suck in a breath trough his teeth. David was arching his back slightly to reach, and as he noticed the overly sensitive reaction, he realized that there was no need for softness or politeness anymore; Jim was throbbing trough his fucking pants, he felt bad for the guy. Might as well relieve him now instead of watching him jizz his pants and get all embarassed.

"Take off your pants." David instructed, and a flame of some odd kind of excitement mixed with nervousness and impatience made the shorter man´s blue eyes glow. Without saying a word, he took his shaking, boney fingers up to his belt, working to get it off, finally pulling the jeans down to his shins. And as he did, David sunk down from the couch onto his knees, pushing Jim´s legs further open. There was a hungriness to his gaze as he measured what was standing up in front of him trough the thin fabric of Jim´s boxers. He traced his long nailed fingers on the bare, smooth skin of the man´s thighs, before getting up to the band of the underwear, digging his fingers inside to pull them down too. And all Jim had to do was lift up his ass a bit for a second, before those too were down at his shins.  
He was huge, and David was pleasantly surprised, even secretly overwhelmed by that. With his long hair now falling down against his steep cheekbones, they brushed Jim´s thighs as he lowered down an inch or two, to press his thin lips onto the tip. Even that made the man moan a bit, but he did bite his lip so hard it could have began to bleed just to keep his volume down. And with a catlike smile, David licked his lips before taking more into his mouth. He was very good, insanely good, better than most of the women Jim had gotten head from in the past. All he could do was sit there with his mouth open, hands gripping onto the silk blouse and the boney shoulders underneath, watching how David took all of him in without gagging once.  
There was a power dynamic there neither of them could deny. It was almost confusing- Jim was the one more rough around the edges, more muscular, Detroit born and raised, with those half way healed cuts of glass burning under his shirt like a raggedy map of past insanity. And David had a feel of a scolar to him, a british wanker of a schoolboy dressed like a goddamn fairy, skinny as a stick with no upper body strength, yet it was him who took the dominant role. And that night, he could have asked Jim to do anything. He would have said yes.  
David´s muffled sighs made the hair on Jim´s entire body stand up, he was panting loudly now. But after that moment, David stopped what he was doing abruptly.

"Wh- what are you doing?" 

"Just hold on a minute for me." And he began unbuttoning the blouse with his skeletal fingers to reveal his milky pale chest, his razor sharp collarbones and his jutting ribs. It was a breathtaking sight that did nothing but made Jim whimper in agony, so hard his dick almost touched his stomach as he sat. As David threw the blouse onto the brown carpet, he got up to stand for a moment and began to pull off his own trousers. The urge to touch himself was beating Jim with a baseball bat, but instead he sank his fingers into the couch so hard his knuckles turned white. And as David had kicked off his pants and underwear and thrown his white boots all over the place, he set his cold hands onto Jim´s muscular shoulders. His mouth was open as he sucked in deep, pleading breaths, and David seemed to enjoy watching him struggle.

"Please"

And with that, the taller man propped himself up on his knees so that he sat on Jim´s lap, but not quite on his cock. His lips parted as he battled an urge to grab it and just jack the boy off there and then. But what he did was spit on his tip, smearing the saliva over the upper half of his length for lubricant. They were both bottoms, but what made it work was David´s dominance over Jim. Without that they would have been hopeless.  
Adjusting his grip, David lowered himself slowly. He was quite loose, after five years of taking it up his ass on a very regular basis, and it didn´t take much massaging himself on the tip before he felt Jim slip in, and they were both breathing heavily. He let himself down all the way, it hurt so badly it made him whine, but eventually he did gather himself enough to pump his body up and down again in a slow, drawn out fashion. And Jim´s hands grabbed onto his smooth back as he threw his head back over the backrest of the couch. Their bodies were rocking against each other with an accelerating speed, and the guitars that wailed in the bar behind the wall drowned under their heavy breaths and muffled moans. And eventually it was all too much, and Jim grabbed David´s waist so hard it must have left bruises. His eyes rolled back a bit as he felt himself throb and twitch, releasing inside of David with a whine of pleasure.

"F-fuck!" His voice wavered. And David took in an airy sigh as he lifted himself up enough for Jim to slip out, scrambling onto the couch next to him with surprising grace. He traced his fingers softly along Jim´s face, moving the sweat stained strands of hair from over his eyes.

"Could you?" He asked, taking the shorter man´s big, rough hand into his dainty one to set it over his dick. And though he was too shy to admit it, this was the first time Jim had touched another man. With very soft, near insecure movements, he helped David finish too, and it didn´t take long until they were both sluggishly panting. David laid on Jim´s lap, and for a moment it was very nice.

And then the moment was over.

Jim´s jacket was laying on the couch by David´s hips, he reached for it to grab a pack of cigarettes and his lighter from the pocket. He offered one for David, and he accepted.  
It was very quiet for a moment.

”I’m not a fag, by the way.” James spoke eventually, blowing out smoke as he felt his heartbeat grow odd in his chest.

”Of course not.” David smiled that catlike smile.

”I need somebody, baby

Just like you.”


End file.
